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NESTLINGS 


NESTLINGS 


A.  COLLECTION   OK   POEMS 


BY 

ELLA  KRASER  \VELLER 


ILLUSTRATED   BY 

Kl.    A. 

FROM    PICTURES  OF   CHILDREN   IN   THE   AUTHOR'S 
IMMEDIATE   CIRCLE   OF   FRIENDS 


SAN    FRANCISCO 
CALIFORNIAN    PUBLISHING  CO. 
1892 


Copyright,  1892,  by  ELLA  FRASER  WELLER 


Libtmiy 


O 
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O 

LOVINGLY   DEDICATED 


TO   THE   CHILDREN    WHOSE   FACES 

O 

Q  ARE 

PICTURED   WITHIN 

O 

J 


flTRODUCTORY 


r  I  ^HESE  selections  have  come  of  occasions.  They 
were  not  meant  for  the  public  eye.  The 
thought  of  a  possible  book  had  given  them  greater 
unity,  and  the  vision  of  a  possible  critic  had  prob- 
ably modified  their  form.  The  mother-love  for 
children  called  for  them  and  they  came  ;  there  is  a 
conspiracy  of  mother- loves  and  the  fugitive  poems 
became  a  book. 

The  accompanying  illustrations  are  shadows  of 
real  faces  and  may  be  readily  duplicated  in  any 
limited  circle. 

' '  Nestlings  ' '  may  serve  as  an  album  for  some 
innocent  faces,  and  perpetuate  some  possibly  helpful 
sentiment. 

S.  H.  WELDER 

Los  Angeles,  California 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


CORNELIA  - 

1  ARTHUR 

2  EDITH  - 

3  HAROLD  M. 

4  LESTER 

5  ALFRED 

6  KENNETH 

7  ELLIOTT 

1  AUTHOR  AND  CHILD 

2  AUDREY     - 

3  CARL 

4  ETHELWIN 

5  MOTHER  AND  BABE 

6  HAROLD  AND  EARL 

7  HELEN 

8  HAROLD  W. 

9  EDITH 

10    WARREN  AND  ALBERT 


Front  Cover 


-    -    -    -    Frontispiece 


Between  Pages 
I 

5  and  6 
ii  and  12 
15  and  16 
20  and  21 
25  and  26 
30  and  31 
34  and  35 
39  and  40 
44  and  45 


PAGE 

MY  BABY'S  FEET  -  j 

Two  LITTLE  SEEDS  -  3 

EDITH      -  .  5 

THE  THEFT  .  g 

WHO'S  AFRAID  -        -  -12 

LULLABY  _  I4 

Two  OF  THEM  -  -     15 

IN  THE  MEADOW            -,  -  -     16 

BEATRICE  -  19 

MY  BOY                                             -        -        -  -  21 

THE  FAIRY'S  MOTTO  -  23 

A  REVERIE  -  26 

MY  CHOICE    -  -  28 

ELLIOTT  -        -  .30 

THREE  LITTLE  KITTENS  -  31 

WHAT  is  THE  USE  OF  TRYING  33 

ONLY  FIVE     -  -  35 

UNRECONCILED  -  37 

THE  NAUGHTY  DOLLY  -  -  40 

MABEL'S  LESSON  41 

BABY  KATHLEEN  .  43 

Two  BOYS  -  -     45 


~  came  o'er  the  distant  hills 


1  As  i 


heard  a  nestling  sing  : 
'  Oh,  pleasant  are  the  primrose  buds 

In  the  perfumed  breath  of  spring  ! 
And  pleasant  are  the  mossy  banks 

Beneath  the  birchen  bowers — 
But  a  home  wherein  no  children  play 

Is  a  garden  shorn  of  flowers.'  " 


MY  BABY'S  FEET" 


yy  ITHIN  my  palm,  like  roseleaves,  dainty,  sweet, 

I  fold  with  tenderest  love  two  little  feet — 
Two  little  feet,  twin  flow' rets  come  to  bring 
To  mother's  heart  the  first  sweet  breath  of  spring. 
Wearied  with  play,  at  last  they  lie  at  rest, 
One  satin  sole  against  its  fair  mate  pressed. 
Dear  little  feet,  fain  would  this  hand  'ere  shield 
Thy  tender  flesh  from  thorns  which  lie  concealed 
Along  the  path  which,  stretching  through  the  years, 
I>ads  on  to  God,  through  joy  and  silent  tears, 
Oh,  would  that  I  could  pluck  from  thy  dear  way 
Whate'er  might  tempt  these  little  feet  to  stray, 
What  though  my  hands  be  torn  by  thorn  and  stone, 
Thy  joy,  for  all  my  pain  would  soon  atone  ; 
If  but  thy  mother  planned  thy  life  for  thee, 
No  other  path  so  bright  as  thine  should  be. 
But  what  am  I,  that  I  my  love  should  count 
Greater  than  that  of  Him,  who  is  love's  fount — 
Who  sent  from  heaven,  these  dainty  baby  feet 
To  make  thy  mother's  life  and  love  complete? 
What  truer  hand  than  His  could  mark  thy  path  ? 
What  greater  love  than  God,  thy  Father,  hath  ? 
What  greater  wisdom  shields  thee  from  all  strife  ? 


MY  BABY'S  FEET   . 

What  greater  mercy  grants  eternal  life  ? 

When  shadows  come,  and  clouds  obscure  thy  way 

He  knows  that  darkness  only  heralds  day. 

If  bruised  thy  flesh,  though  mother's  heart  may  bleed, 

He,  in  His  mercy,  knows  thy  greatest  need. 

Then,  little  feet,  though  mother's  prayers  may  rise, 

In  love  and  trust,  that  never  doubt  implies 

That  God,  thy  steps  may  lead  in  ways  aright, 

And  keep  thy  soul  from  sin's  unholy  blight, 

I'll  leave  thy  future  in  His  hands  alone, 

And  know,  at  last,  He'll  bring  thee  safely  home. 


NESTLINGS     .     3 


I   WO  little  seeds  sank  deep  in  the  earth, 

Down  through  the  narrow  darkening  way, 
Side  by  side  in  a  slow  descent, 

Away  from  the  light,  on  an  April  day. 
Two  little  seeds — you  scarce  could  tell 

One  from  the  other — both  brown  and  round, 
Planted,  that  day  by  the  self-same  hand 

In  the  mellow  depths  of  the  self-same  ground. 
Nestling  together  they  chattered  thus, 

As  close  in  their  cozy  nest  they  lay  : 
"What  are  we  here  for  down  in  the  dark 

Hidden  so  deep  from  the  light  of  day  ?  ' ' 
"  What  are  we  here  for  ?     I,  for  one," 

Said  the  first  little  seed,  in  a  gruesome  tone, 
"  Shall  just  go  to  sleep,  and  sleep  right  on, 

Close  by  the  side  of  this  round  smooth  stone. 
I  shall  not  stir,  but  I'll  sweetly  sleep, 

Until  old  Mother  Earth  must  surely  see 
That  here,  in  the  damp  of  the  chilly  ground, 

Is  never  the  place  for  the  like  of  me. ' ' 
Proud  and  idle,  it  went  to  sleep, 

And  it  slept  right  on,  though  the  warm  rain  fell, 


TWO  UTTI«E  SEEDS     .     4 

And  Nature  found,  when  she  came  to  look, 

Nothing  at  all  but  an  empty  shell. 
The  other  seed  mused — "It  cannot  be  right 

Thus  in  the  earth  to  so  idly  lie, 
This  life  of  ours  will  wasted  be 

And  soon  in  this  gloom,  unused,  must  die. 
/  shall  not  sleep — from  this  narrow  shell 

I'll  find  my  way,  and  out  of  this  night 
I  shall  reach  right  up,  until  day  by  day 

I  nearer  and  nearer  approach  the  light. 
Already  I  feel  the  welcome  heat 

Warming  the  loam  that  around  me  lies, 
Already  I  see  in  my  sweetest  dreams 

The  genial  sun  and  the  azure  skies. 
Oh !  slumber  then  in  your  slothful  ease, 

By  your  foolish  fancies  alone  deceived, 
While  the  grandest  victories  Earth  e'er  knew 

Are  only  waiting  to  be  achieved." 
So  out  from  his  shell  the  wee  seed  burst, 

And  stretched  to  the  full  of  its  graceful  length, 
While  the  light  and  warmth  of  the  Summer  sun 

Added  each  day  to  its  beauty  and  strength. 
Its  slender  fingers  of  tender  green 

Catches  the  trellis  here  and  there, 
Higher  and  higher  reaching  up, 

Branching  out  in  the  Summer  air. 


TWO  LITTLE 


Oh,  fair  are  the  blossoms  it  bears  for  all, 

And  fragrant  the  breath  of  its  golden  bells  ; 
Glad  is  the  music  they  ring  for  you, 

From  the  perfumed  depths  where  the  dewdrop  dwells. 
They  wake  you  out  of  your  sluggish  sleep — 

Their  voices  are  ringing — Arise  !  Arise  ! 
God  gave  you  your  life  to  use  for  Him, 

And  can  you  the  gift  of  a  King  despise  ? 
Your  strength  will  waste  if  it  is  not  used, 

The  life  He  has  lent  He  will  ask  again, 
Can  you  bring  but  the  empty  shell  to  Him, 

And  tell  Him  His  gift  has  been  in  vain  ? 


EDITH 


NKSTUNGS  6 


flower  within  my  garden  grows- 
My  friend's  is  crowded, 
But  mine  is  rarer  than  the  rose, 

My  skies  unclouded. 
I  shield  it  when  the  north  winds  blow 

So  harsh  across  it, 
I  cannot  let  them  kiss  it  so, 
And  rudely  toss  it. 

So  beautiful  it  is  and  frail, 

I  almost  dread 
The  butterflies  that  soar  and  sail 

So  near  its  bed. 
I  envy  not  the  wealth  of  flowers 

Across  the  way  ; 
My  radiant  flower  exhales  perfume 

For  me  each  day. 

My  gratitude  to  Heaven  for  this, 

My  one  late  flower  ; 
And  such  a  sense  of  rapturous  bliss 

Ascends  each  hour. 


EDITH 

Dear  Heaven,  still  a  gift  bestow 

And  grant  to  me 
The  grace  to  train  my  flower  to  grow 

For  Heaven  and  Thee. 

And  yet,  because  I  love  it  so 

My  heart  will  fail, 
When  life's  rude  tempests  'gin  to  blow 

My  blossom  frail. 
Help  me  to  shield  it  from  the  rain — 

From  winter's  blast  — 
And  I  will  give  it  back  again 

To  Thee  at  last. 


NESTLINGS 


A   CROW  flew  down  from  a  tall  oak  tree, 

Just  as  important  as  he  could  be; 
For  a  Congress  of  birds  was  to  meet  that  day, 
And  he  had  determined  to  have  his  say. 
He  plumed  his  feathers  and  looked  severe, 
As  the  birds  flew  in  from  far  and  near. 
A  Mocking  Bird  sat  on  a  limb  near  by, 
With  a  desperate  look  in  his  round,  dark  eye  ; 
He  was  the  culprit— a  thief  he  had  been, 
The  Thrush  and  the  Blackbird  had  "run  him  in. 
He  had  stolen  the  nest  of  the  little  brown  Wren 
From  the  tangled  depth  of  a  shady  glen. 
The  Hawk  was  the  Judge,  and  sat  in  state, 
Ready  to  seal  the  prisoner's  fate. 
"A  thief  is  worse,"  said  the  Bobolink, 
"Than  anything  else  on  earth,  I  think." 
But — "  Order  in  Court  " — rang  close  to  his  ear, 
Robin,  the  Sheriff,  was  standing  near. 
Then  the  Crow  began  in  his  deep  sub-bass, 
And  his  pompous  manner  to  plead  the  case. 
He  spoke  of  the  prisoner's  youth  at  first, 
But  a  murmur  of  scorn  from  the  audience  burst, 
So  he  changed  his  tactics  and  said:   "  I  hear 


.     .   THE    THEFT   .      9 


Of  late  the  prisoner  has  acted  queer. 

In  fact,  I  can  make  it  to  you  quite  plain 

That  most  of  his  ancestors  were  insane. 

Young  as  he  is,  and  with  such  a  taint, 

'Tis  folly  to  make  against  him  complaint." 

He  talked  till  the  Mocking  Bird  felt  secure, 

Feeling  acquittal  was  coming  sure. 

Then  the  Owl  rose  up,  and  his  blinking  eyes, 

Droll  and  uncanny,  looked  wondrous  wise  : 

' '  Tu  whit,  tu  whoo  !  You  will  find  it  vain 

To  plead  that  the  prisoner  's  now  insane; 

Insane,  did  you  say  ?  Oh,  well,  perhaps — 

But  there  is  a  prison  for  all  such  chaps, 

The  Mocking  Bird's  record  has  always  been 

Soiled  and  blotted  by  many  a  sin. 

If  this  were  the  first  of  his  insane  tricks — 

But  the  family  trait  to  the  fellow  sticks. 

Only  last  week — but  you  all  have  heard — 

How  he  broke  up  the  home  of  the  Humming  Bird. 

Stealing  and  hiding  the  theft  by  a  lie 

Is  the  poorest  rule  for  a  bird  to  try. 

We  have  borne  with  him  for  many  a  year, 

But  now  we  must  act.     Have  I  made  it  clear  ?  ' ' 

And  he  loudly  read  from  the  law  a  clause, 

Then  flew  to  his  perch,  amid  loud  applause. 

The  charge  to  the  jury  was  something  fine, 


.   THE    THEFT     .      IO 


Pathos  and  power  in  every  line. 

They  were  out  but  a  moment,  then  entered  again, 

Nor  had  the  eloquent  charge  been  vain  ; 

For  the  verdict  ' '  Guilty, ' '  rang  out  clear, 

Filling  the  pris'ner  with  abject  fear. 

Then  the  Judge  rose  up,  and  shaking  his  head, 

Solemnly,  thus  the  sentence  read  : 

"  L,et  every  bird  from  yon  prisoner's  breast, 

A  feather  pluck  for  the  Wren's  new  nest." 

Scarce  had  they  heard  the  words  pronounced 

Ere  they  all  in  a  mob  on  the  culprit  pounced, 

Kach  plucking  a  feather,  he  flew  to  the  glen 

Eager  to  comfort  the  poor  little  Wren. 

The  Mocking  Bird  shivered  with  cold  and  pain, 

"Oh  !   never,"  he  cried,  "will  I  steal  again, 

And  I'll  try,  oh!  I'll  try  to  do  what  is  right, 

Nor  ever  be  found  in  such  a  sad  plight." 

The  dear,  gentle  Dove,  who  had  lingered  behind, 

Came  close  to  the  prisoner,  loving  and  kind, 

And  she  whispered  so  low,  ' '  Come  home  to  my  nest ; 

I'll  care  for  you  tenderly,  give  you  my  best. 

I  know  you  are  sorry,  I  know  you  will  try, 

So  come,  let  us  home  to  my  warm  nest  fly. ' ' 

So  nursed  by  the  Dove,  one  fair  summer  day, 

He  kissed  her  and  blessed  her,  and  then  flew  away. 

But  whether  he  truly  became  a  good  bird 


.     .   THE   THEFT    .    II 

I'm  sure  I  can't  say,  as  I  never  have  heard. 

But  I  know  on  his  record  there'll  ever  remain, 

Though  the  act  be  repented,  its  dark,  ugly  stain; 

And  he'll  find  o'er  and  o'er  such  tricks  do  not  pay, 

For  punishment  comes,  and  oft  comes  to  stay. 

No  matter  how  small  is  the  act  that  we  do, 

This  thing,  little  children,  you'll  find  always  true : 

That  somehow  or  some  way  it  does  come  about, 

The  wrong  that  we  do  will  soon  find  us  out, 

And  we're  filled  with  such  sorrow  and  in  such  a  plight, 

We  see  very  clearly,  "  'Tis  best  to  do  right." 


WHO'S   AFRAID 


.     NESTUNGS     .    12 


D  UN,  little  man,  or  old  Jack  Frost 
Will  catch  you  ere  you  know  it, 
I  am  sure  you  are  half  afraid  of  him, 
Though  your  manner  does  not  show  it. 

With  your  soft  warm  cap  and  your  overcoat, 
You  think  you  can  safely  meet  him. 

The  harsh  old  fellow  will  have  to  look  sharp, 
Or  the  coy  little  man  will  cheat  him. 

See  how  bravely  he  faces  the  piercing 'wind, 

Not  afraid  of  the  cold  is  he, 
And  the  roses  bloom  on  his  rounded  cheek, 

As  he  romps  in  his  boyish  glee. 

Heigh-ho,  little  man,  if  you  meet  the  storms, 

That  blow  o'er  the  hills  of  life, 
With  half  the  courage  you  show  to-day, 

You  are  sure  to  win  in  the  strife. 

Then  go,  little  man,  and  never  you  fear 

But  look  the  world  in  the  face, 
And  you'll  find  on  the  heights  of  life,  my  boy, 

That  world  will  make  you  a  place. 


.    WHO'S  AFRAID    .    13 


'Tis  only  the  brave  that  fortune  finds , 

"Tis  only  the  good  who  win  ; 
The  sluggards'  bulwarks  are  tumbled  down, 

And  he  falls  in  the  gutters  of  sin. 

So  up,  little  man,  and  never  say  fail, 

Though  frosts  of  adversity  fall ; 
With  courage  your  armor,  and  hope  for  a  sword, 

There  is  naught  your  heart  can  appall. 


NKSTUNGS     .    14 


sweet,  noddlekins, 
Nurse  is  full  of  prickly  pins, 
Mamma's  full  of  kisses  sweet 
For  dimpled  hands  and  rosy  feet. 

Slumber  comes — close  your  eyes, 
Angels  watch  you  from  the  skies, 
lyittle  dreams  come  drifting  down 
To  veil  those  roguish  eyes  of  brown. 

Nestling  close  on  Mamma's  arm, 
You  are  safe  from  every  harm. 
Close  I  clasp  you — all  my  joy, 
Centers  in  you — darling  boy. 

Now  your  eyelid  fringes  meet, 
Kissed  by  slumbers,  soft  and  sweet. 
Who  can  wonder,  angels  keep 
Tender  watch  when  babies  sleep  ? 

For  I'm  sure  no  lovelier  sight 
Ever  graces  realms  of  light, 
They  are  golden  links  of  love 
Binding  earth  to  Heaven  above. 

Sleep,  my  baby,  sleep  and  rest, 
Nestled  close  011  Mother's  breast ; 
Harm  can  never  reach  you  here, 
God  and  Mother  guard  you,  dear. 


NESTLINGS     .    15 


HERE  is  the  little  boy  Tommy  ? 
Not  in  the  parlor  with  hammer  and  tacks, 
Not  in  the  kitchen  with  sharp  little  axe, 
Not  on  the  lawn  where  patient  old  Bose 
lyies  half  asleep  with  a  fly  on  his  nose  ; 
Not  in  the  garden  planting  his  seeds, 
Pulling  up  flowers  as  often  as  weeds, 
No  little  Tommy. 

Nor  in  the  barn  do  I  see  his  short  legs, 
Climbing  the  ladder  to  hunt  for  the  eggs  ; 
Nor  yet  in  the  meadow  where  cowslips  are  yellow, 
Half  hid  by  the  grass,  do  I  see  the  wee  fellow, 
I  am  sure  he  was  here  but  a  moment  ago — 
I  wonder  why  boys  are  gotten  up  so  ! 
Queer  little  Tommy. 

Oh  !  down  in  the  orchard  where  apples  are  green 
A  moment  ago  Master  Tommy  was  seen — 
High  in  the  top  of  a  gnarled  old  tree 
Stuffing  his  pockets,  and  hiding  from  me  ; 
Playing  me  tricks,  for  he  knows  full  well 
That  his  mamma's  away,  and  that  I  won't  tell. 
I  won't  tell,  and  you  wonder  why  ? 
Well,  Tommy's  a  boy — and  so  was  I. 


I 


IN   THE  MEADOW 


NESTLINGS     .    1 6 


ike 


f   HEARD  the  grasses  talking,  talking, 

Down  in  the  meadow,  one  summer  day, 
The  prettiest  things  I  heard  them  whisper, 
Nodding  their  heads  in  a  quaint  wise  way. 

Whether  they  knew  that  I  was  listening, 
And  would  tell  to  you  their  story  sweet, 

I  know  not  ;  but  surely  they  would  not  chide  me  ; 
For  the  gossiping  winds  their  words  repeat. 

They  told  how  they  loved  the  golden  sunshine  ; 

How  once  in  the  gloom  of  a  strange  long  night 
They  feared  they  were  lost,  until  angel  fingers 

Touched  them  with  life,  and  they  found  the  light. 

And  how  the  tints  of  emerald  landscape 

Were  caught  from  the  sunlight  on  cloud  and  sky; 

How  dewdrops,  gems  from  the  crystal  fountains, 
Were  showered  o'er  earth  from  realms  on  high. 

I  heard  them  say,  how  the  cowslips  yellow 
Were  bits  of  the  sun,  dropped  here  and  there 

How  the  lilies  pure,  with  their  snow  white  petals, 
Were  down  from  the  wings  of  angels  fair. 


IN  THE   MEADOW  .    17 

And  the  blue-eyed  violets,  shy  and  tender, 
With  breath  from  the  censer  of  heaven  sent, 

Were  bits  of  the  sky,  by  the  summer  borrowed, 
And  just  for  the  season  to  Flora  lent. 

They  told  how  the  daisies  and  buttercups  yellow, 
Marked  where  the  feet  of  the  swift  hours  trod; 

When  fickle  they  fled  from  the  pussy-willow, 
To  the  newer  love  of  the  golden  rod. 

How  the  bolder  touches  of  gorgeous  color 
From  the  crimson  glory  of  sunset  came, 

And  touching  with  blood  the  swaying  poppies, 
Set  hill  and  valley  and  field  aflame. 

Oh,  they  told  me  things  that  set  me  thinking, 
Thoughts  that  never  were  mine  before  ; 

And  the  love  of  Christ  for  his  wayward  children 
Filled  me  with  wonder  more  and  more. 

How  even  the  flowers  and  grasses  know  Him, 
How  He  loves  and  cares  for  their  needs  alway, 

That  they  take  no  thought  for  the  coming  morrow, 
But  live  and  trust  in  the  bright  to-day. 

And  may  not  we,  who  are  Christ's  own  Children, 
Blotting  the  present  with  anxious  tears, 

Live  our  joy,  and  leave  to  His  mercy 
The  shadowy  doubts  of  future  years  ? 


IN    THE    MEADOW      .     1 8 


The  somber  gloom  of  the  distant  mountain 
Reveals  no  path  that  our  feet  may  tread, 

But  at  its  foot  upwinding  ever 

It  stretches  out  like  a  silver  thread. 

Down  in  the  meadows,  among  the  grasses, 
My  pillow  of  daisies  and  violets  blue, 

The  sweetest  stories  of  all  the  summer 
I  hear,  and  come  and  whisper  to  you. 

I  may  not  tell  you  all  they  told  me. 

Go  press  your  ear  to  the  fragrant  sod — 
The  pulse  that  beats  in  Nature's  bosom 

Throbs  in  the  heart  of  Nature' s  God. 


.     .     NESTLINGS 


"DIMPLED  hands  and  dimpled  cheeks, 

Dimpled  chin  beguiling ; 
Rows  of  gleaming,  pearly  teeth, 
Rosy  lips  a  smiling. 

Rings  of  dark  and  shining  hair, 
Around  a  white  brow  clinging  ; 

Hazel  eyes  where  gladness  shines, 
And  sets  the  heart  to  singing. 

Dainty  feet  with  dimpled  toes, 

Little  hands  caressing  ; 
Gurgling  laugh  and  lisping  tongue 

Helplessness  confessing. 

Roguish  glances,  sidelong,  sweet, 

What  is  Baby  doing  ? 
Face  half  hidden  in  my  breast, 

All  my  kisses  wooing. 

Softly,  softly  slumber  comes, 

See  her  eyes  are  closing  ; 
Cupid,  shorn  of  bow  and  wings, 

In  my  arms  reposing. 


BEATRICE     .      20 


Blessed  home  where  baby  comes, 
What  a  void  without  her  ; 

Joy  and  love  and  sunshine  bright, 
Lingers  all  about  her. 

Not  a  shadow  conies  to  me, 
But  at  once  'tis  lifted, 

Just  because  this  Baby  sweet, 
Down  from  Heaven  drifted. 


MY    BOY  " 


NESTLINGS     .  21 


JJH,  where  did  you  come  from,  baby  mine, 
^^     With  your  face  like  a  cherub's  sweet  ? 
Did  the  angels  scatter  with  flowers,  the  path 

That  was  pressed  by  your  little  feet  ? 
Or,  did  you  fly  from  the  realms  of  love  ? 

On  your  shoulders  methinks  I  see 
In  the  crumpled  roseleaf  dimples  there, 

The  place  where  the  wings  should  be. 
The  angels  were  loth  to  leave  you,  my  child, 

I  know  they  were  filled  with  fear, 
I  almost  fancy  I  hear  their  wings 

Hovering  somewhere  near. 
Oh,  they  need  not  doubt  that  your  mother's  heart 

Holds  less  of  love  than  their  own, 
And  though  I  may  lack  of  their  wisdom  my  pet, 

My  love  for  the  lack  shall  atone. 
Oh,  gift  of  the  angels — Gift  of  God, 

What  a  trust  for  a  mortal  to  hold  ! 
A  boy  to  guide  in  the  paths  of  right, 

A  soul  for  Heaven  to  mold. 
My  darling,  I  fain  would  shelter  you  here, 

Close,  close  on  my  own  fond  breast, 


.      .        MY    BOY     .      .    22 

For  my  heart  shrinks  back  from  the  terrors  of  life 

When  my  bird  flies  out  of  the  nest. 
If  only  Christ  gave  me  the  power,  my  boy, 

To  suffer  and  toil  in  your  stead, 
I'd  pluck  every  thorn  from  your  path  in  life 

And  toss  you  its  roses  instead. 
And  the  selfish  love  of  your  mother,  boy, 

Would  rob  you  of  life's  best  boon, 
And  drown  the  chorus  of  angel  choirs, 

By  setting  the  world  attune. 
So  I'll  send  back  the  tears  of  a  mother's  love, 

I  will  crush  out  a  mother's  fear, 
And  push  you  with  tender,  trembling  hands 

Out  into  Life's  highway,  dear. 
Yet  strongly  armored  by  truth,  my  boy, 

And  shod  by  your  mother's  prayer, 
I'll  know  that  your  Heavenly  Father's  love 

O'ershadows  you  everywhere. 
And  that  sometime,  after  life's  battle  is  o'er 

In  the  land  of  our  promised  rest — 
I  shall  meet  you,  my  baby,  to  part  never  more, 

And  hold  you  once  more  on  my  breast. 


.     .     NESTLINGS     .    23 


A  FAMIL,Y  of  Fairies  lived  under  the  ground, 
*    *    And  search  as  they  might  no  place  co'd  be  found, 
Where  a  home  they  could  make,  a  snug  little  nest, 
A  refuge  from  harm  when  by  foes  they  were  pressed. 
Day  in,  and  day  out  they  skurried  about, 
Putting  fish  worms,  and  beetles,  and  such  like  to  rout. 
At  length  one,  the  most  energetic  of  all, 
Found  something  quite  large  and  round  like  a  ball, 
So  calling  the  family,  with  pickaxe  and  spades 
They  soon  in  the  wonder  an  opening  made. 
And  what  do  you  think  they  found  it  to  be  ? 
A  turnip  so  large  it  might  have  been  three. 
So  they  hollowed  it  out  as  fast  as  they  could, 
Not  pausing  a  moment  for  rest  or  for  food. 
A  part  of  the  contents  they  hurled  from  the  door, 
And  trampled  the  rest  to  thicken  the  floor, 
And  ere  through  the  holes  the  sun  'gan  to  peep, 
The  turnip  was  empty,  the  Fairies  asleep. 
The  gardener  on  passing  his  turnip  bed  saw, 
'  Midst  the  flourishing  green  a  queer  looking  flaw  : 
"  Why,  how  can  this  be  ?   I'm  sure  yester-e'en, 
That  turnip,  as  any,  was  thrifty  and  green. 
There  may  be  a  grub  at  its  root,  or  perhaps, 


THE  FAIRY'S  MOTTO  .  24 

A  bug  at  its  top,  they  are  meddlesome  chaps  ; 

I'll  wait  until  morning,  the  heat  of  the  sun 

May  have  proven  too  much  for  a  delicate  one." 

In  the  meantime  the  Fairies  waked  up  by  his  words, 

Laughed  and  chuckled  together  as  happy  as  birds. 

"  Before  he  comes  round,  we'll  have  finished  and  done, 

And  he'll  find  that  his  turnip  is  not  worth  a  bun. 

He  will  leave  it  and  we  will  hold  revelry  high, 

For  that  some  may  have  life,  why,  something  must  die." 

So  they  cut  a  small  hole  through  the  top,  for  a  door, 

The  tiniest  roots  from  the  outside  they  tore, 

And  made  them  a  ladder,  so  firm  and  so  fair 

It  answered  their  purpose  and  served  as  a  stair. 

A  cabbage  leaf  carpet,  a  bedstead  so  neat 

They  made  in  a  minute,  just  out  of  a  beet, 

A  table  and  chairs  were  made  out  of  roots, 

Supported  in  style  by  asparagus  shoots. 

Lace  curtains  of  spider  webs,  hung  o'er  the  doors, 

And  bumble  bee  skins  were  the  rugs  on  the  floors, 

Their  dishes  were  all  from  the  button  weed  made, 

Their  knives  and  their  forks  from  the  tiny  grass  blade, 

Corn  silk  for  their  cushions,  thistledown  for  a  bed, 

"  Our  home  will  be  royal,"  they  boastingly  said. 

They  caught  a  black  cricket  and  hollowed  him  out, 

For  a  crib  the  sweet  baby  must  have,  without  doubt, 

And  the  cricket,  his  life,  ought  gladly  to  give, 

For  "  something  must  die,  that  others  may  live." 


THE  FAIRY'S  MOTTO  .  25 

But  why  should  I  tell  you  the  wonderful  way 
They  furnished  and  finished  their  house  the  next  day  ? 
They  sent  invitations  to  their  four  hundred  friends — 
"At  Home — after  sunset  until  the  night  ends." 
But  plans  that  are  made  for  ends  of  our  own, 
May  steal  our  sweet  plums  and  leave  us  the  stone. 
Next  day  as  the  gardener  walked  down  through  the  rows 
Pressing  down  the  soft  earth  here  and  there  with  his  toes, 
He  found  that  the  turnip  looked  worse  than  before— 
And  grimly  he  smiled,  for  he  saw  the  top  door, 
That  the  Fairies  forgot  in  their  hurry  last  night 
To  close  with  the  curtains,  and  fasten  down  tight, 
So  stooping,  he  gathered  the  leaves  dry  and  dead, 
Gave  a  vigorous  pull,  and  away  o'er  his  head 
He  sent  it  a-flying — Poor  Fairies,  good-bye — 
' '  That  something  may  live,  you  know,  something  must 
die." 


"    A   REVERIE  " 


NESTLINGS     .    26 


>Z  TANDING  to-night  beside  their  little  bed, 
^     All  richly  hung  with  tapestry  and  lace, 
I  look  half  sadly  down  upon  my  treasures  there, 
My  boys,    so  full  of  innocence  and  grace, 
My  little  lambs,  safe  folded  for  the  night, 
Caught  by  the  god  of  slumber  unaware. 
The  sturdy  lad's  soft  cheek  close  pressed 
Against  his  baby  brother's,  soft  and  fair  ; 
The  smile  is  still  upon  the  boy's  red  mouth. 
On  baby's  face  the  roguish  dimples  lie  ; 
The  curls  of  brown,  the  shining  rings  of  gold, 
L,ike  sun  and  shadow  tremble  as  I  sigh — 
Sigh  that  so  much  of  innocence  and  grace 
So  soon  must  leave  a  mother's  tender  care — 
So  soon  the  hurrying  years  crowd  on  apace, 
And  bring  to  each  of  toil  and  pain  his  share. 
To-day,  when  poisoned  breath  from  lips  profane, 
Blown  harshly  from  the  busy  street  below, 
Entered  my  safe  retreat,  and  brought 
Quick  to  my  side  the  lad,  his  cheeks  aglow, 
His  hazel  eyes  with  wonder  wide  met  mine  ; 
I  could  not  speak — I  stooped  and  kissed  his  hand. 
The  shadow  passed,   my  heart  leaped  up  in  joy— 


.      .    A   REVERIE    .     27 


The  words — the  sin — he  did  not  understand. 
But  ere  the  cloud  had  left  his  childish  face 
Upon  my  heart  this  deeper  shadow  lay  : 
I  cannot  always  keep  my  darlings  safe  ; 
They'll  leave  the  shelter  of  the  fold  some  day. 
Strong-willed,  strong-hearted,  loving  boys — 
Harmonious  souls  by  angels  set  attune — 
Oh,  may  my  fingers  touch  the  keys  aright  ! 
I  ask  of  Heaven  than  this  no  greater  boon  ; 
No  greater  boon  than  wisdom  from  on  high 
To  strengthen  them  against  the  snares  of  sin  ; 
To  teach  them  how  to  live  and  how  to  die, 
To  hear  their  Master  bid  them  "Enter  in  !  " 
So,  with  my  good-night  kiss  upon  your  lips 
I'll  banish  all  the  shadows  from  my  heart, 
And  know  He'll  send  His  blessed  sunshine  in, 
If  only  you  and  I  will  do  our  part. 


NESTUNGS  28 


I  'M  only  a  boy,  but  before  me  lie 

Life's  paths  untrod,  and  a  sunny  sky 
Bends  o'er  the  paths,  and  smiles  on  me. 
And  under  its  blue  serene,  I  see 
Two  ways  stretch  out,  one,  narrow  and  straight ; 
The  other,  broad,  and  an  open  gate 
Beckons  me  on,  and  smiling  and  sweet 
Are  the  Heavens  fair,  and  down  at  my  feet 
Fair  flowers  bloom,  and  the  grasses  nod 
On  the  level  slope  of  the  emerald  sod. 
In  the  bosky  dells  my  eyes  discern 
The  feathery  flakes  of  the  filmy  fern, 
The  birds'  low  song  in  the  shadows  deep 
Lull  my  fancies  to  dreamful  sleep. 
The  sun-flecked  slopes  and  the  open  gate 
Seem  for  my  eager  feet  to  wait. 
But  the  narrow  way,  though  rough  and  steep, 
Has  a  charm  for  me,  and  my  senses  leap 
As  I  view  the  heights  that  seem  to  rise 
From  the  lowly  earth,  to  the  sunlit  skies. 
Though  rough  and  steep,  and  with  danger  fraught, 
Though  the  glorious  heights  with  my  life  be  bought- 
I'll  turn  from  the  broad  road  leading  down, 


.       MY   CHOICE      .       29 

And  seek  the  heights  and  the  laurel  crown. 

From  the  blood-stained  prints  of  my  thorn-pierced  feet, 

Spring  wonderful  flowers,  whose  fragrance  sweet, 

Borne  on  the  breath  of  the  balmy  air, 

Charms  my  heart  and  dispels  my  care. 

The. beetling  crags  that  block  my  way, 

The  storm  cloud's  gloom,  where  the  lightnings  play, 

But  give  me  strength  for  each  new  emprise, 

And  joys  my  soul  as  I  slowly  rise  ; 

For  snares  and  cliffs,  to  a  boy  like  me 

Should  only  incentives  to  action  be. 

I'm  bound  to  rise — If  I  earnestly  try 

I  know  I  can  reach  the  hilltops  high. 

But  I  have  no  time  to  loiter  and  play, 

On  the  tempting  slopes  of  the  downward  way, 

But  must  follow  the  path,  by  good  men  trod, 

To  rise  to  the  heights  of  life  and  God. 


NESTLINGS      .       30 


Cfclltxxtt 

little  cherub,  from  isles  of  the  blest, 
What  is  your  destiny  ?    What  is  your  quest  ? 
Have  you  been  watching  us  with  your  bright  eyes 
Till  you  thought  you  would  come  as  a  cunning  surprise  ? 
Did  you  see  that  this  house  lacked  a  baby  so  sweet 
To  widen  the  circle  and  make  it  complete  ? 
Did  )^ou  see  from  your  perch  in  the  realms  up  above 
The  sweet  mother-heart  overflowing  with  love  ? 
You  thought  it  so  precious,  you  flew  to  her  breast, 
You  sought  it  and  found  it,  and  found,  too,  your  rest — 
Your  refuge  from  sorrow  ;  your  fortress  so  strong, 
May  you  rest  in  it,  dwell  in  it,  cherish  it  long. 
You  are  welcome  as  dewdrops    when    parched  are  the 

flowers  ; 

You  will  brighten  the  days  till  they  shrink  into  hours. 
May  heaven  watch  over  you,  fill  you  with  joy, 
And  bless  the  whole  circle,  in  you,  little  boy. 


•'THREE  LITTLE   KITTENS 


NESTLINGS      .      31 


PHREE  little  kittens,  black,  white  and  gray, 

Went  out  in  the  garden  one  morning  to  play. 
Said  the  white  one,  ' '  I  want  to  play  hide  and  go  seek 
'Tis  long  since  we  played  it,  much  more  than  a  week." 
"  All  right,"  said  the  gray,  "  I'm  ready  for  fun," 
And  he  started  away  with  a  hop  and  a  run. 
"Just  wait,"  said  the  black  with  an  ominous  growl, 
His  face  wrinkled  up  in  the  crookedest  scowl. 
"  It's  an  old-fashioned  game — I  shan't  play  at  that, 
It  is  not  becoming  a  stylish  young  cat  ; 
I'll  sport  with  the  leaves  or  I'll  play  in  the  sun, 
But  it's  tiresome,  unpleasant  and  foolish  to  run.!' 
The  others  agreed  in  a  good-natured  \vay, 
And  the  three  little  kittens  began  then  to  play  ; 
The  dead  leaves  went  flying  to  right  and  to  left, 
All  three,  for  a  time  seemed  of  senses  bereft ; 
But  something  went  wrong — "  I  say  that's  not  fair," 
The  black  kitten  cried — "  and  to  play  I  don't  care" — 
The  gray  and  the  white  coaxed  him  hard  for  awhile, 
But  nothing  would  cause  him  to  speak  or  to  smile, 
So  they  left  him  alone  and  hied  them  away — 
"  Hide  and  seek  "  mongst  the  roses  and  lilacs  to  play. 
He  heard  their  gay  laughter  and  sullener  grew— 


THREE   UTTLE   KITTENS       .      32 

The  sun  was  too  hot — the  skies  were  too  blue, 

The  grass,  he  was  certain,  was  damp  where  he  lay, 

All  things  had  conspired  to  annoy  him  that  day, 

He  could  bear  neither  sunshine,  the  mirth  that  he  heard, 

The  hum  of  the  bees,  nor  the  chirp  of  a  bird. 

How  silly  they  seemed — it  made  him  so  cross — 

The  pleasures  of  life  were  nothing  but  dross, 

So  he  hastened  away  in  a  fit  of  despair ; 

All  things  were  against  him  and  ' '  nothing  was  fair. ' ' 

And  now,  little  people,  does  any  one  know 

A  child  who  is  cross,  and  always  acts  so  ? 

Who  cries  with  a  pout — "  I  say  I  shan't  play, 

Unless  you  do  everything  just  as  I  say." 

If  beaten  at  games,  he  says  "  It's  not  fair" — 

And  takes  of  good  things  far  more  than  his  share. 

If  you  know  such  a  child,  I'm  sure  you  will  find 

He  is  sour  and  unhappy,  because  he's  unkind  ; 

To  be  happy,  be  gentle,  good  tempered  and  sweet 

To  playmates  and  elders  and  all  whom  you  meet. 


NESTLINGS     .   33 


t#  tlji? 


*\A/HAT  is  the  use  of  tryin£? 

I  never  can  learn  to  fly, 
See  how  the  lark  goes  floating 

Up  to  the  sunlit  sky  ; 
He  never  failed  as  I  have, 

See  how  he  flies  at  ease, 
Light  as  a  down  of  thistle 

Tossed  on  the  tremulous  breeze. 
I  have  been  foolishly  trying, 

Thinking  I,  too,  might  rise, 
I'll  stay  down  here  in  the  hedges, 

And  leave  to  the  lark  the  skies." 
So  he  stayed  in  the  crowded  hedges, 

And  lived  through  the  summer  long, 
Only  a  common  sparrow — 

One  of  a  common  throng. 
'  What  is  the  use  of  trying  ? 

Pouring  o'er  book  and  slate, 
I  fail,  and  shall  keep  on  failing, 

For  men  are  created  great. 
'Tis  folly  to  think  that  study 


WHAT  IS  THK  USE  OF  TRYING    .    34 

For  so  many  hours  a  day 
Is  going  to  make  out  of  boys  and  girls, 

Wise  women  and  men  alway. 
So  what  is  the  use  of  trying  ? 

A  common  lot  shall  be  mine  ; 
Why  muddle  my  brain  with  study  ? 

I  never  was  meant  to  shine  ; ' ' 
So  away  in  the  closet  cupboard 

The  books  kept  gathering  dust, 
And  the  mind  they  were  meant  to  nourish 

Was  buried  and  lost  in  rust. 
So  the  hedges  go  gathering  sparrows, 

And  the  larks  still  mount  to  the  sky, 
And  out  from  the  crowded  byways 

Few  souls  gain  the  mountains  high. 
Have  courage  and  keep  on  trying, 

Though  a  sparrow,  a  lark  cannot  be, 
The  highways  that  lead  to  the  Pisgahs 

Are  open  to  you  and  to  me. 


ONLY    FIVE 


NESTLINGS     .  35 


I '  VH  had  a  birthday  party— 

Of  course  I'm  only  five — 
But  I  had  the  j  oiliest  time 

Of  any  boy  alive. 
I  got  some  little  chickens, 

The  roosters  cannot  crow  ; 
But  on  my  mamma's  table 

I  stand  them  in  a  row. 

I  got  the  funniest  bank — 

A  man,  all  mouth  and  eyes, 
He  swallows  every  penny, 

And  every  dime  he  spies  ; 
My  mamma  set  a  dinner 

For  Ollie  and  for  me. 
'Twas  just  a  little  party, 

One  little  girl,  you  see. 

We  had  the  nicest  oranges, 
And  nuts,  and  apples  red, 

And  just  the  tiniest  custard  pie, 
Plum  cake  and  snow  white  bread. 


ONLY   FIVE      .    36 


We  ate  up  all  we  wanted, 
Mamma  sat  by  and  smiled, 

And  kissed  my  curls  and  dimples, 
And  called  me  "  precious  child." 

And  when  the  day  was  over, 

And  I  was  snug  in  bed, 
She  found  the  prettiest  book  I  have, 

And  lots  of  stories  read  ; 
And  then — I  can't  remember, 

My  head  was  in  a  mix  ; 
For  when  the  sand -man  found  me, 

I  dreamed  that  I  was  six. 


.     .     NESTLINGS     .    37 


HID  away  in  the  corner  I  found  it, 
A  little  shoe  worn  out  and  old  ; 
But  dearer  to  me  in  my  sorrow 

Than  all  earth's  treasures  of  gold. 
Scarcely  lost  to  the  foot's  soft  imprint, 

I  can  fancy  its  warmth  still  there 
As  I  press  it  close,  close  to  my  bosom 

And  sob  in  my  hopeless  despair. 
My  arms  are  so  useless  and  empty, 

My  heart  is  so  hungry  and  sore, 
My  dear  little  golden-haired  baby, 

Will  lie  on  my  breast,  nevermore. 
Nevermore,  will  I  feel  the  soft  pressure 

Of  his  rosy  lips  pressed  against  mine, 
Nevermore  will  his  arms  warm  and  tender 

My  neck  with  caresses  entwine. 
You  mock  when  you  say  God  has  ta'en  him 

Away  from  the  sorrows  of  earth, 
What  love  could  shelter  and  shield  him, 

lyike  the  love  that  had  given  him  birth  ? 
W'ill  it  heal  the  mad  longing  to  fold  him 


.  UNRECONCILED    .    38 


Once  more  to  my  grief-stricken  heart, 
To  tell  me  I'll  meet  him  in  Heaven 

Nevermore  from  my  darling  to  part  ? 
Your  words  are  well  meant,  I  can  feel  it, 

But  the  wound  is  too  deep  and  too  fresh, 
I  cannot  deal  now  with  the  spirit, 

Oh  !  God  give  him  back  in  the  flesh. 
Let  me  see  him  again  as  I  saw  him, 

So  winsome,  so  rosy,  so  bright, 
His  baby  face  dimpled  and  roguish, 

His  blue  eyes  with  laughter  alight, 
Let  me  feel  in  my  mad  desolation, 

His  heart  throbbing  close  to  my  own, 
Does  God  pity  me  in  my  sorrow  ? 

Does  he  care  for  my  heartbroken  moan  ? 
Had  he  need  of  my  darling  in  Heaven 

That  the  life  of  niy  life  he  has  ta'en  ? 
Do  not  try,  while  my  poor  heart  is  breaking 

The  mystery  of  death  to  explain, 
Let  me  sit  by  myself  in  the  shadow, 

Let  me  kiss  as  I  will  the  worn  shoe  ; 
For  I'm  chilled  by  the  breath  of  the  angel 

That  over  my  hearthstone  flew. 
Let  me  weep  as  I  will,  and  the  teardrops 

May  wash  from  my  dim  eyes  away 


.   UNRECONCILED  .    39 


The  shadows  that  hide  in  their  garments, 

•  The  light  and  the  glory  of  day. 
Perhaps,  as  you  say,  Christ  is  tender, 

And  he'll  shelter  my  lamb  in  his  breast, 
But  your  sympathy  hurts  me,  I  cannot — 

I  will  not  say  yet — "  It  is  best." 


THE   NAUGHTY   DOLLY " 


.     .     NESTLINGS     .    40 


jjH,  Dolly  !  How  can  you  be  naughty  ? 

^^     You've  been  naughty  the  whole  day  through  ; 
You  spoiled  your  white  dress  in  the  gutter, 

And  stuck  up  my  pictures  with  glue  ; 
And  when  in  a  corner  I  put  you, 

And  plead  with  jrou  so  to  be  good, 
You  stared  in  my  face  with  a  simper, 

And  acted  so  saucy  and  rude. 
I  have  tried  so  hard  to  be  patient — 

For  I'm  sorry  to  punish  you  so  ; 
And  I  love  you,  my  poor  naughty  Dolly, 

Much  more  than  you  ever  can  know. 
I  hope  you  will  think  the  day  over  ; 

I  am  going  to  bed  now — good-night. 
Be  a  good  little  Dolly  to-morrow, 

And  try  all  the  day  to  do  right." 


NESTLINGS     .   41 


|V|  ABEIy  stood  by  the  garden  gate 

Swinging  her  hat  in  a  careless  way  ; 
A  frown  on  her  face,  a  pout  on  her  lip  ; 
For  naughty  had  Mabel  been  that  day. 

A  pert  brown  Thrush  on  a  bough  o'er  head 
Fluttered  his  wings  and  carolled  his  song. 

Happy  as  ever  a  bird  could  be, 
Singing  and  working  all  day  long. 

Mabel  had  risen  late  that  morn  ; 

The  breakfast  was  over,  and  everything  cold  ; 
Mamma  was  busy  and  Harry  was  ill, 

And  Bridget  did  nothing  at  all  but  scold. 

L,ong  ere  the  light,  the  Thrush  had  been  out, 
Catching  his  breakfast  as  best  he  could  ; 

Working  and  singing  with  right  good  will — 
Never  was  bird  in  a  merrier  mood. 

Mabel  had  started  the  day  all  wrong, 

Had  hurriedly  dressed  and  forgotten  to  pray  ; 

The  bird  sang  on  and  she  heard  his  song, 
And  the  wonderful  things  he  seemed  to  say. 


MABEL'S  LESSON  .  42 


"  I  waked,"  he  sang,  "  as  one  by  one 
The  stars  slipped  out  of  the  purple  night, 

Kre  the  slender  fingers  of  infant  dawn 

Could  catch  the  thread  of  their  faint  pure  light. 

I  bathed  in  the  brook  that  sings  near  by, 

And  borne  on  the  breath  of  the  opening  day, 

Joyously  up  to  the  brightening  sky, 
I  sent  to  my  Maker  a  grateful  lay. 

And  so  I  go  on  and  I  build  my  nest, 

Happy  and  busy  as  bird  can  be  ; 
For  I  know  though  the  winds  blow  cold  and  chill, 

My  Heavenly  Father  guardeth  me." 

Mabel  looked  up  with  a  penitent  face, 

The  bird  had  flown,  but  the  lesson  stayed, 

And  Mabel  went  in  from  the  garden  gate 
A  better,  and  wiser,  and  happier  maid. 

For  bright,  or  dark  is  this  life  of  ours, 

Just  as  we  make  it,  children  dear  — 
With  naughty  deeds  come  the  chilling  showers 

While  the  skies  of  the  good  are  bright  and  clear. 


NESTLINGS     .   43 


gtaihtmt 


INTO  my  life,  out  of  Paradise, 
She  came  like  a  bird,  and  the  low-hung  skies 
With  the  muttered  threats  of  their  tempest  cloud, 
That  had  covered  my  life  with  its  dismal  shroud 
Vanished  like  dew,  when  the  new  day  springs 
From  her  rosy  couch,  and  unfolds  her  wings. 
Unfolds  her  wings  for  her  airy  flight 
From  the  mist  hung  dawn  to  the  purple  night, 
She  hovered  so  near  I  could  almost  reach  — 
My  trembling  heart  was  o'erfull  for  speech, 
When  joy  !  oh  !  joy,  on  my  throbbing  breast 
She  folded  her  wings  for  a  moment  to  rest, 
For  a  moment  the  gates  of  pearl  were  ajar 
All  earth  was  alight  with  the  radiant  star, 
That  shone  o'er  Bethlehem's  manger  low, 
On  that  wonderful  night  of  the  long  ago. 
But  I  recked  for  naught  of  the  glowing  skies, 
While  the  lovelight  shone  from  her  starry  eyes  ; 
But  my  beautiful  song  bird,  blithe  and  free 

With  her  plumage  white  was  too  fair  for  me, 

Bancroft  Libr*r; 

Adown  through  the  shining  gates  there  came 


BABY  KATHLEEN    .   44 


Voices  of  angels,  calling  her  name. 
I  had  felt  the  thrill  that  her  presence  brought, 
I  had  learned  the  lesson  her  love  had  taught, 
She  came,  and  my  life  was  a  garden  fair, 
She  fled,  and  that  life  was  a  desert  bare, 
But  my  beautiful  bird  I  will  find  once  more 
When  I  wing  my  flight  to  the  far  off  shore, 
And  Heaven,  Ah  !  Heaven  will  be  so  bright 
When  I  find  my  bird  with  her  plumage  white, 
When  I  look  once  more  in  her  starry  eyes, 
I  shall  know  I  have  entered  Paradise. 


,    .-,    -*-   t 


TWO   BOYS 


NESTLINGS     .   45 


TWO  boys  beside  my  knee 
With  eyes  so  dark  and  deep  ; 
Two  snow- white  souls,  the  God  of  L,ove 

Has  given  to  me  to  keep. 
My  cup  of  joy  o'er-ran 

That  Summer's  day, 
I  knew  they  were  my  own — 

My  own  alway. 
My  fair  twin  boys — Ah  !  me, 

I  look  for  you 
Out  o'er  life's  trodden  paths, 

And  turn  anew 
To  Him,  who  never  yet 

Has  failed  to  hear 
A  mother's  prayer  for  those 

She  holds  so  dear. 
Oh  !  eyes  so  dark  and  sweet, 

May  Heaven's  light 
Shine  o'er  the  paths  you  tread 

And  make  them  bright. 
You  could  not  go  astray — 


.     .     TWO    BOYS     .     46 

For  all  along 
A  wall  of  prayer,  I  build 

So  high  and  strong, 
The  tempters  cannot  scale 

Its  dizzy  height, 
And  lead  my  darlings  out, 

To  endless  night. 
These  dimpled  baby  hands 

God  gave  to  you 
Through  rock-ribbed  hills  of  life 

Their  way  to  hew. 
Nor  would  I,  though  I  might 

Save  you  the  test  ; 
For  well  I  know,  beyond 

I/ies  Heaven  and  rest. 
This  kiss,  a  pledge  I  give 

To  live  for  you  ; 
And  know  full  well,  that  God 

The  rest  will  do. 


FROM   THE    PRESS   OF 


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